Chapter 7 — Blood of a Tengu, Blood of a Fool (Part 4)

Six days had passed since we rang in the new year.

Hearing that Kaisei had woken from her sleep, I paid a visit to the Faux Denki Bran distillery.

The clouds that drifted through the sky sparkled as if they had just been born. In the streets that ran along the Kamo River, the air was fresh and new.

The Ebisugawas’ distillery was still in the midst of their New Year’s hiatus, and the grounds were quiet. The loop at the end of the driveway in front of the distillery was host to the largest New Year’s pine decoration in all the tanuki world.

I walked down the long hallway and peeked into my little brother’s lab. The only person still hard at work in the otherwise quiet distillery was Yashirō, putting the pieces of his lab back together. You’d be hard pressed to find any other tanuki who would still be working so diligently over the New Year’s break.

Most of the smashed equipment in the lab had been disposed of, and now all that remained were a handful of measuring devices and an old trunk, plus a banged-up desk. Yashirō was at the desk drawing up schematics in notes, explaining some of his working theories to Ebisugawa Kureichirō, who stroked the rock from Cape Misaki that hung from his neck as he oohed and aahed in admiration.

“I see. What clever things you think of.”

“Can I try them out?”

“By all means. I’ve no doubt it will be fascinating,” he said, clapping Yashirō’s shoulder heartily and looking up. “Ah, Yasaburō. A happy new year to you.”

After the turmoil at the end of the year, the real Kureichirō had moved back to the distillery. At the time he had intended to depart on his solitary travels after eating a square meal, but being that Ebisugawa Sōun had been swallowed into the diptych along with Tenmaya, and Kaisei had yet to awaken from her slumber, and Kinkaku and Ginkaku had been sentenced to confinement after getting a good tonguelashing from Yasaka Heitarō, the Ebisugawa clan was teetering on the precipice. “Things are heading towards a disaster!” the employees of the Faux Denki Bran distillery had cried and pleaded with him, and so with little choice he had put his journey on hold.

Kureichirō chatted happily as he led me to Kaisei’s room. “She’s still slightly out of it, but a little more nourishment will soon put that to rights. She’s already so peppy as to be a little bit tiresome. Always going on about, ‘how come you turned into such a weirdo monk?’ or, ‘you didn’t used to look like a con artist’...one does wonder about her upbringing. But I will admit that I was quite an adorable furball before I left on my travels.”

I stifled a chuckle as Kureichirō lamented on and on.

Entering Kaisei’s bedroom alone, I found her sleeping in a four-poster bed like some kind of slumbering princess. The moment her furry form entered my sight my transformation came undone. I clambered up to the bay window next to her bed and pulled aside the curtains to let the light in.

“Hey, wake up, Kaisei. Wakey wakey!”

Kaisei mumbled something, and cracked open her eyes. When she saw me she screamed and dived back under her blankets. “What’re you doing here?” Her voice shook with anger.

“I’m here to see you, what else? Kureichirō let me in.”

“Screw that stupid wannabe monk! I’m his little sister, for crying out loud! Like what, it’s okay just because we’re engaged? All that sitting around at Cape Misaki totally turned him into a smooth brain! I can’t believe him! Drop dead!”

In the midst of all her spluttering she poked her face out of the blanket. “...Happy New Year, Yasaburō."

“Happy New Year.”

“I can’t believe it went by without me knowing. I don’t remember anything at all!”

“You looked like you were snoozing real peacefully. Dreaming about a giant onsen-manjū, I take it?”

“How did you know!?” Kaisei opened her eyes wide.

Actually, during her Tenmaya-induced slumber Kaisei had dreamed that a million onsen-manjū fell from the sky. Each of those nut-brown, glistening buns were soft as cotton candy with just the right amount of sweetness, and the more she ate, the more delicious they became. This. Is. Awesome! she thought to herself, going around the dream stuffing buns into her mouth, and when she finally, blissfully opened her eyes, she found herself here in the bed.

But the Shimogamo family had slept through the new year, too, and in fact after all of that commotion, I wouldn’t have been surprised if every tanuki in Kyoto had been so exhausted that they slept through it, too.

　　　　　　　◯

I sat on the bed and filled Kaisei in on everything that had happened since she was shot in Ayameike’s garden.

It all felt as if it had happened long, long ago.

After the Heir bent the knee before Master Akadama, the tengu and the tanuki blended into the flock of onlookers attracted by the burning villa and made their escape, as did the Friday Fellows.

The three-story train had gone up in flames along with the house, and was now just a sad, charred wreck pelted by the rain. Jurōjin’s prized collection had all burned to a crisp, and while Jurōjin himself had vanished I had no doubt that I’d earned his lasting enmity.

The day before I visited Kaisei I’d gone to the forest in Hanase to see Professor Yodogawa. Snow crunched beneath my feet as I crossed the field. Professor Yodogawa was standing there all bundled up, sipping on bamboo leaf tea and gazing at the trees as the sun rose in the sky.

“Hallo!” he shouted when he saw me, waving his hand enthusiastically.

After we exchanged New Year’s greetings, Professor Yodogawa looked at my face wordlessly. I knew that he was attempting to say something about the queer events that had occurred, but it was all so confusing that he was lost for words. Finally he sighed. “...Strange things happen in this town, wouldn’t you say?”

Inside the professor’s corrugated metal hut was a mountain of canned food and bottles of sake and all other manner of gifts. All the tanuki world had been touched by the sight of the professor throwing himself between the pile of tanuki and that air rifle, and every night tanuki snuck into the hut to show their thanks. The gifts made the professor quite happy, but also very confused.

“Say, who do you think is leaving all these presents?”

　　　　　　　◯

As both Ebisugawa Sōun and Tenmaya had been swallowed up into Hell, I could only guess at the extent of their plans.

I presumed that Sōun’s plan to sneak back into Kyoto by impersonating Kureichirō must have been simmering in his mind for some time. That’s why he’d joined forces with Tenmaya. He probably hadn’t anticipated my sudden appearance at his hideout in Arima, but with Tenmaya’s aid he’d managed to improvise an act convincing enough to make everyone think he was dead. It’d been a masterful performance from Sōun, a once-in-a-lifetime deception. Following that, Sōun had changed his skin to that of Kureichirō and made his grand appearance at his own funeral. He’d handed me over to the Friday Fellows, framed the Shimogamos for his assassination in order to stop Yaichirō from assuming the Trick Magistership, and eventually planned to be officially installed as Trick Magister himself. Not a single tanuki in Kyoto (certainly not Kinkaku and Ginkaku, who had been so enthralled by the impostor) had caught on to his true identity. If he hadn’t been betrayed by his erstwhile partner Tenmaya and outed because of the replica air rifle, his scheme might very well have succeeded. It was such a thorough, impeccable plan that it was hard to believe it had been thought up by a tanuki.

“I don’t believe it!” Kaisei sighed. “First he was dead, and then he was alive. Then he was alive, and now he’s been swept off to Hell. I’m so confused right now!”

“You can be sure he’s still alive. He’s probably boiling noodles in that ramen cart in Hell with Tenmaya.”

Kaisei looked at me, her eyes wide. “...And you’re okay with that?”

“What can you do? He's just the sort of tanuki that just refuses to die.”

Kaisei said nothing.

“All right, I should get going. I’m a busy tanuki, after all. I’ll visit some other time.”

“Hmph. Whatever you say, it’s not like I’m going to chase you away.”

“You know, the Tsuchinoko Expeditionary Brigade is still recruiting. Why don’t you sign up once you’re all better?”

Lying in her blankets Kaisei snorted, “Not gonna happen.”

I left the room just as Kureichirō came walking down the hall. A large cage was swinging from his hand, and inside that cage were Kinkaku and Ginkaku, looking sulky as could be.

“Hey, Kinkaku, Ginkaku! Happy New Year!” I called out breezily.

Kinkaku’s fur bristled. “And what’s so happy about it? Do you know how many times we have been made to apologize this week alone? You won’t find many tanuki better at apologizing than us!”

“We’re professional apologists,” Ginkaku piped up. “Apologies are what we do!”

“And in the first place, why must we apologize? We were only being deceived by Father! We’re the real victims here! Though I will admit that perhaps we shouldn’t have blown up Yashirō’s laboratory.”

“Or hidden the German air rifle and tried to pin the blame on us?”

“What choice did we have? The fake Kureichirō told us to do so!”

“Respect your elders! Respect your elders!”

“All right, you two professional apologists, it’s time for your sutras,” announced Kureichirō.

“Eeghh!” Kinkaku and Ginkaku groaned together. “We’ve already chanted so many sutras our throats are cracked and bleeding!”

“I cannot depart on my journey until I have beaten your natures into shape.”

“There’s no reforming us, why don’t you just put us from your mind and head off on your journey?”

“That will not do. I have already promised Yasaka.” Kureichirō rattled the cage and made to walk off, but suddenly turned around as if he had just thought of something. “Oh, yes. I have a message from Yasaka.”

“Huh, what’d he say?”

“The elders have approved a pardon. Wonderful, isn’t it? I myself feel rather relieved.”

Yasaka Heitarō had formed a committee to investigate the Ebisugawa Sōun assassination conspiracy, working all through the New Year’s break and eventually establishing Yaichirō’s innocence. With proof in hand, Heitarō had proceeded to the elders to pass on New Year’s greetings as well as to present the evidence. Burning with zeal for his retirement, Heitarō had, in his final official act as Trick Magister, at last persuaded the elders to recognize Yaichirō as the new Trick Magister.

“All’s well that ends well. Congratulate Yaichirō for me,” said Kureichirō, chanting a sutra as he walked away.

　　　　　　　◯

The marriage of Yaichirō and Nanzenji Gyokuran was held at Shimogamo Shrine near the end of January.

The morning was frightfully chilly, and dancing snow wrapped the city.

Tanuki bundled up in traditional formalwear gathered at the Western-style assembly hall on the west side of the shrine, milling around the carpet. In attendance were the Shimogamo family; our uncle and other denizens of Tanukidani Fudō; Nanzenji Seijirō and the rest of the Nanzenji clan; and Yasaka Heitarō, who was anxious to leave for Hawaii.

The crowd of tanuki hid their tails inside their stiff formalwear, cordial exchanges of hearty congratulations going around the room. “Fancy seeing the Prince in Black in a kimono!” everyone said to Mother, to which she always responded with the same embarrassed line: “Oh, stop it!”

Glancing toward the front of the hall, Yashirō interjected, “Look, isn’t that the Master?”

A taxi had stopped amidst the fluttering snow, and Master Akadama emerged.

The tanuki hurriedly lined up at the door to greet their honored mentor, for all of the guests at Yaichirō’s wedding were former pupils of Master Akadama.

“A rather high-strung gathering of furballs, hmm?” The Master squinted around.

Mother bowed her head low to him. “Lord Yakushibō of Nyoigadake, we are honored by your presence.”

“...Sōichirō is also proud this day, I am sure.” Master Akadama lightly patted Mother’s back as she wiped tears from her eyes.

We all entered the waiting room and sat at tables to drink tea while we waited for the ceremony to begin.

White, sparkling snow fell on the other side of the windows, but inside the hall it was nice and cozy. Mother was beaming as she munched on white steamed buns with the double-leafed aoi crest stamped on top. “These buns are absolutely first-rate!”

“They’re so yummy!” Yashirō agreed.

“They sure didn’t skimp on the details,” said Yajirō. “Look, there’s even gold flecks in the sencha! It all makes me real nervous. What’ll I do if I turn back into a frog in the main hall?”

“Why don’t you take a nip of Faux Denki Bran, just to be safe?”

“C’mon, Yasaburō, I can’t start drinking now!”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t. There will be sake during the ceremony, and at any rate you’re going to start drinking at some point,” Mother reasoned.

Just then Yaichirō, wearing a hakama bearing the family crest, wobbled into the room. His face was white as a sheet, presumably from his nerves.

“You really should try to look a bit happier,” Yajirō commented. “It looks like you’re being forced to get married! Gyokuran’s going to be worried sick.”

“I just don’t understand why I’m so deathly nervous.”

“Come on, just relax, and hold your head up high! And make sure to keep your tail in.”

“Please don’t remind me about my tail, Mother. It feels like it might come shooting out any second now.”

“Then why don’t you just let it hang out, loud and proud?” I told him. “Trying to maintain your dignity might just make it worse.”

“Fool, I can’t just let my tail swing about inside the shrine!”

“You all look like you’re having fun,” came a bell-like voice.

We all turned around to see Gyokuran standing there in a white kimono. Without further ado Yaichirō’s tail came shooting right out, prompting Yashirō and me to frantically try to stuff it back inside his robe.

Together Yaichirō and Gyokuran went up to Master Akadama and bowed to their old teacher. Stuffing a steamed bun into his mouth, the Master got to his feet, leaning on his cane, and glared at the two.

“Incorrigible things, furballs. The only thing they’re good for is multiplying!” He patted their heads softly. “Go now, and be happy.”

After that, Yaichirō and Gyokuran, bearing umbrellas, led the column of guests to the main shrine building, where the ceremony was held.

White snowflakes danced around the bright scarlet rōmon gate.

As the tanuki wedding procession passed through the shrine, tourists stopped to marvel.

“Look, a wedding!”

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

The stately procession of furballs continued on its way as pictures were taken and congratulations filled the air, the onlookers never dreaming that beneath the robes each of the participants was hiding a tail.

Looking up at the grey sky, I whispered to Master Akadama beside me, “It’s snowing, Master.”

“Indeed it is. How very wretched.”

“...Just to be clear, has my expulsion been revoked?”

“If this makes you unhappy, I can expel you again!”

“Unhappy? Perish the thought!”

“You are an incorrigible fool, but at times you can be useful.” The Master didn’t say anything about the tumultuous end of the year, and I decided not to ask.

“In any case, Happy New Year, Master!” I said.

“Hmph,” the Master snorted. “I see this is the beginning of yet another tiresome year.”

We entered the dim interior shrine, where a red carpet had been laid out

The ceremony proceeded as the tanuki of both houses looked on with solemn faces, and by the time the bride and groom exchanged their nuptial cups¹, Yaichirō had calmed down sufficiently that he exuded the dignity befitting a bridegroom. Beside him Gyokuran cast her eyes down at her white kimono, looking a little embarrassed.

Finally, Yaichirō unfolded a piece of paper, his sonorous, dignified voice sounding very much like that of Father as he read out the vows:

　　　　　　　◯

After Yaichirō’s wedding, I sent Master Akadama back to his apartment.

Pushing my muttering mentor under the kotatsu I left the apartment and came down the stairs to find the Heir standing in the snowy alley, watching me from under a black umbrella.

I hadn’t seen the Heir since that business last year. As all of his earthly possessions had been reduced to a pile of ash, the Heir had once more taken up residence at the Hotel Okura in Kawaramachi Oike as if nothing had happened. Apparently he no longer handed out gold napoléons like candy anymore.

It was obvious that I had been at the root of that incident, and I was expecting him to give me a good dressing down, but instead he merely raised a hand in greeting.

“Good day, Yasaburō. Still chaperoning that old fool around, I see.”

“He was my teacher, after all.”

“What gallant creatures you tanuki are,” the Heir muttered. Then, not looking at the apartment, he asked, “And how is he?”

“Cold. Bored. Throwing a tantrum.”

“I see. I am glad to hear it.” The Heir turned and began to walk away.

“You’re not going to see the Master?” I asked, scurrying after him.

“That is not why I came,” he answered curtly.

Together we walked through the Demachi shopping arcade.

“I will certainly say, that was a most unpleasant way to end the year.”

“...My apologies.”

“Where did your plot end, and the accident begin, I wonder.”

“I couldn’t tell you myself. Conspiracies are such convoluted things, you see...but I should tell you that commotions of that sort aren’t uncommon in this country, ‘specially in this town.”

The Heir narrowed his eyes at me. He seemed to be quite aware that I was playing dumb, but decided not to press the matter. And I, knowing that he knew this, had also decided as a matter of mutual understanding not to bare the depths of my furry soul to him.

“You are rather an interesting tanuki. At times it seems that you don’t miss a thing, that you think of everything: and yet at other times it seems to me that you don’t think at all.”

“Aren’t those the same thing?”

“Is that a pearl of tanuki wisdom?”

“It’s just my fool’s blood talking.”

“I can see you will grow up to become a splendid tanuki.”

“And you will become a great tengu.”

“...I will not become a tengu.” The Heir fell silent.

We came out of the arcade and walked from the end of the Demachi Bridge down towards the Kamo Bridge. The riverbank was bleak and deserted, and freezing snow continued to fall. Students and monks bundled up in winter gear passed over the Kamo Bridge, while city buses rumbled back and forth. Looking north over the railing of the bridge, Mount Hiei glittered white like it was sprinkled with sugar, while the mountains beyond it were obscured by the falling snow.

I kept looking through the snow up at the grey sky. It was too quiet, as if something was missing. Of course, I knew exactly what that thing was.

The Heir suddenly mumbled like a shy schoolgirl, “Do you think we could become friends?”

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”

“...Why not?’

“Because I’m a tanuki. And tengu are beings which lord over tanuki.”

The Heir smiled when I said this. I hadn’t seen him smile so freely since his return to this country in spring.

“You are unique. Truly, one of a kind.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Drop by the hotel some time. No need to be shy.” And the mock English gentleman walked off into the falling snow.

I leaned on the railing of the bridge and watched his dapper form disappear. Why didn’t he use that power, I wondered, that tengu power which his father had cultivated in him, that power which some tanuki admired from afar?

But tanuki do not understand tengu concerns, as tengu do not understand tanuki concerns.

Tengu have their pride to uphold, and we tanuki have our dignity.

And that is precisely why the blood of a tengu resonates with the blood of a fool.

　　　　　　　◯

I made my way through the crowded Sanjō Meitengai arcade. The end of January was approaching, and the ebullience of the new year was fading from the city; the squeaky clean streets of Kyoto were starting to take on the new year’s squalor.

I stopped at a fan store in Sanjō Takakura. The sliding door was inset with glass embossed with the name of the shop: Nishizaki Gen’emon. Pulling it open, I was met with the floating aroma of incense. Gorgeous fans were displayed throughout the dim interior of the shop like a collection of butterflies. Every time I came here, I was also struck by the feeling that time was standing still.

“Hello there!” I called out. Gen’emon came out from the back of the shop.

“Welcome, Yasaburō.”

“How’s it looking today.”

“Not very well, I’m afraid. The sea is still angry.”

“I’ll just take a little look-see.”

I parted the dark blue curtain and walked along the floorboards down the long corridor. The briny smell grew stronger as I went further along, and I began to hear the sound of lapping waves.

I turned at the end of the corridor and came out into a diner, which was just as deserted as it had been when I had visited Benten here last summer. The wooden floor was wet with raindrops and the spray of the waves. I stood at the center of the diner and looked out over the open sea. Beneath the rolling, beastly storm clouds, the sea churned as if roiled by countless whales.

After suffering that defeat at the hands of the Heir, Benten had holed up in that hotel on the sea. I’d visited many times, but the waves were always too rough to put out a boat.

While I waited for the weather to change, I thought back to the first time I had ever met Benten. That day was the first time she had floated into the air, peeking out between the blossom-laden branches of a cherry tree. And ever since that day, I had fallen head over heels into a love, my first love, which would never be requited.

“What’s wrong with being a tanuki?” I had asked, to which she had replied, “Well, I am a human.”

After I had waited an hour, the wind and rain died down, and a bit of clear blue sky poked through the tumbling clouds.

I immediately jumped into the boat and set off across the grey sea.

In the distance a whale spouted a stream of mist into the air, and a purple streak of lightning flashed in the clouds.

At last, the hotel and its clock tower came into view. In a room on its top floor, which had only just escaped being sunk beneath the waves, burned a solitary light.

I clambered up the wall and broke the window of another room to get inside. Exiting the ruined room, I found myself in a corridor with a neat row of identical doors on both sides. Here and there the floorboards were ripped up, and the plaster on the walls was peeling.

I walked over the creaking floorboards and imagined the former glory of this hotel. It had been an age when traces of the boy still lingered in the Heir’s face, and Master Akadama had been flush with tengu majesty. The clock tower, now rusted by the sea air, had proudly chimed out the hour. The floor had been covered with rich red carpet, and the walls had been painted spotlessly white. At night, the glowing lights of this palace must have made it look like a chest of jewels fit for a queen. In my mind’s eye, I saw the glory of this place come to life once more.

At last I stopped in front of one of the doors and knocked.

“Shimogamo Yasaburō, at your service.”

　　　　　　　◯

That room was so cold I thought I might freeze. There was a small desk and chair by the window, and on top of the desk was a Western-style lamp. Through the windowpane could be seen the grey sea, and dark clouds gliding through the sky.

Benten was curled up in the bed by the wall, asleep. I sat in the chair that was by the bed and watched her breathing quietly.

I wondered what she was dreaming of.

An image came into my mind of a girl walking along the frozen shores of Lake Biwa.

The barren fields, the pale bamboo thickets: all was buried in snow. The girl walked silently along the beach, not a single footprint disturbing the field of white. She couldn’t stand to remain where she was, yet she had nowhere to go. She felt the latent power coursing beneath her skin, yet she had no idea how to play with it. In all the wide world she was alone, and all that was by her side was solitude. When a tengu came plunging out of the sky with his hand outstretched, the girl looked up into the cold winter sky, and without hesitation reached out a hand of her own—

As I sat there thinking about these things, Benten opened her eyes and rolled over in her bed.

She looked at me, not saying a word. Hot tears ran in her eyes, as if she had been having a terrible nightmare, and they glittered with a strange light. Her hair, burnt off by the Heir, had been shorn as short as a schoolboy’s.

Without saying anything I reached out and touched her soft, new hair.

“...I’m pitiful, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are pitiful.”

Hearing those words from me, great big teardrops flowed from her eyes, and she buried her face in her pillow. I could hear her muffled sobs, as she cried just like a little child.

“You ought to pity me more.”

“I do pity you more.”

The drumbeat of the rain got louder again, fat drops of rain hitting the windowpane. The room was still, the only sounds the rain that enveloped the 20th Century Hotel, and Benten’s wracking sobs.

It was exactly as the Heir said: tanuki are gallant creatures.

As I stroked her hair, I finally came to a realization.

It wasn’t me that Benten needed.

I’m nothing more than a tanuki.